FCKuCANCER.

A 20-year journey I will never forget, thankfully survived, and I’m still here – My Battle(s) with the Big C

When I suspected something was wrong with me around mid-2006, I decided I couldn’t put off visiting the doctor any longer.

The pain wasn’t excruciating, but it was certainly enough of a bother that I had to get some answers; and painfully it wasn’t going to heal with a quick result.

Tests.

I can’t tell you how many CTs, blood tests, multiple X-rays, and upper GI and lower GI exams I had to take – and several others I don’t remember. It seemed like it was every other day. And while they weren’t all painful, it came with way too many bottles of barium I had to digest to help the provide some details to me and my physician(s).

Did I say I hated barium? Yuck.

I had so many specialists who were a part of my journey, but it was so nerve racking to never get a legit diagnosis that didn’t involve a referral or another examination at a later date. My frustration was building each time I took another test.

Around the week after Labor Day that same year, we finally reached a resolution – and shockingly, it was the dreaded “C” word. I will never forget hearing the doctor’s voice as he told us what my future would look like; and after months of trying to find out what was wrong with me all I could say with confidence was, “how do we beat this?”

The chemotherapy appointments were dreadful; but they aren’t supposed to a bouquet of roses. My first year consisted of chemo (about three times a week for about two months, and 28-30 radiation appointments – remember I said first year.

Thankfully, I was able to still maintain my work and travel routine with the Atlanta Hawks. Working the games kept my mind off what I dealing with and allowed me to keep my head on something positive, no matter if the team won or lost. It wasn’t as big of a deal for the first time in my sports life.

My family kept things as upbeat as possible while I went through my treatments. Over time, I showed the remnants of my first go-round, as my fingernails turned dark, I developed raccoon eyes and eventually what little hair I still had (and I liked my do) completely left my body. On my hair, I knew that would happen, it pretty much happens to all of us who had some sort of chemo; but when it finally decided to leave in clumps I was truly wrecked inside. I went from having an afro as a kid like members of the Jackson 5, to aging as a adult with cancer looking like Telly Savalas (who loves ‘ya baby?).

Remember a few years later when then-Hawks coach Mike Woodson lost his eyebrows? So did I, but I didn’t have a choice – or a set of clippers – at my disposal 😝.

One of the most difficult things to endure throughout my first time with cancer was coming down with the illness during my son’s senior year in high school. I tried to prevent him from constantly worrying about me and put up a brave front in front of him and my wife, but in those quiet moments, I certainly prayed to God that I would at least make it past his graduation – the biggest upcoming event in his life – to see him walk across that stage and accomplish that milestone. We achieved that goal.

The games were an uplift in so many ways. It took my mind off the serious matter at hand, and in my life as I hoped I wouldn’t succumb from the many trips to the doctor’s office getting the “drip” from the chemo IV. I had so much dang time to think while staring out a window into the daily skies – my sessions went on until the bag completely got to the bottom – and it would on average take 2-3 hours before you could finish; so I’d catch up on reading materials and/or listening to my tunes on my iPod, iPad or iPhone whichever was the latest or greatest at the time.

Remember I said I had time. A lot of it. I didn’t always care if we won or lost a game during those days, because hearing positive results from my physicians were the most important thing and to avoid giving myself any additional stress was out of the question. The Hawks home crowd booing my guy Josh Smith for launching his wild three-pointers didn’t faze me one bit. I was happy to be alive just to hear the throated ‘noooooooooo’s’ (!) coming from what few fans were at Philips Arena at the time.

Atlanta wasn’t really good at that time, but we were building something special and I certainly hoped I’d be around to enjoy it as time progressed. Traveling wasn’t a problem for the most part, because we always traveled first class, with very few minutes spent in actual airport terminals (it allowed me to avoid any maladies in the air from other travelers) which everyone in an NBA travel party appreciates. It didn’t matter to me if we had back-to-backs, arrived at the late hours of the morning, or if a trip was delayed because of weather. When you’re dealing with cancer, it was a lot easier to keep things in the proper perspective.

Anyway, because I didn’t know how long I would scribble this missive, I just wanted to recognize reaching that milestone in my life and to thank everyone involved in assisting with my health and recovery. Cancer is debilitating enough and if you don’t have the ‘team’ around you to avoid the obstacles you face and/or assist with the smallest of details, it really can negatively hurt you mentally and/or physically.

I recently remembered a significant moment that occurred on my scheduled surgery day, that was to begin with prep work at 6:15 in the morning Houston time…ugh. While my favorite song during my journey was Bishop Paul S. Morton’s “I’m Still Standing,” the trip to the elevator let me know my late mom was along for the ride, when I saw the name of my hospital assistant on our trip down to the surgery area. Beatrice was with her child that day…

Cancer returned once again the next year, and while my treatments were tougher than the first time, God blessed me to survive it yet again.

It was beyond a blessing to eventually ‘ring the bell’ years later when I was told my treatments were done and I could celebrate reaching that ultimate goal. Thankfully, I did because I knew I had more in life to give and spend those days with family and friends and to see what God had in store for me.

My heart did ache on eventually losing an MD Anderson friend and Atlanta colleague in Craig Sager, who spent time there as well during a couple of my stays and visits to see his doctor(s); and so many people who were connected to those blasted IVs in various forms – and especially the vast number of kids who were dealing with their issues and whose conditions brought me to tears.

I may yet write a book on how sports intertwined with the health scare of my life, but if gathering my thoughts take as long as it did to do this, I may not…LOL. The dedication and devotion needed to write about your past, and history is quite a challenge and I’m not there…yet.

I am glad I was still here to spread a little love with these words, and I hope they provide some positivity for anyone who has battled adversity time and time again. As Jimmy V once said, “don’t give up, don’t ever give up.”

Pray, trust and believe. 🙏🏾🕊️❤️